


To Kill a MockingCactus

by so_real



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: 4 + 1, Crack, Humor, M/M, basically 5k words of a man hating a cactus, cacti? whatever, no cactuses were harmed in the making of this fic, san and yunho are mentioned at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_real/pseuds/so_real
Summary: Seonghwa gets a cactus. Hongjoong absolutely isn't jealous of it.OR4 times Hongjoong tries to kill Seonghwa's cactus and the time he actually succeeds.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 44
Kudos: 533





	To Kill a MockingCactus

**Author's Note:**

> CAW says Rita write a seongjoong cactus au I say sir yessir
> 
> Thanks to Mire for reading this super fast and for the title ilu

1.

Hongjoong hadn't realized, when he started rooming with Seonghwa, that he would have competition. 

It's not like he's exactly  _ competing _ in any game, but if he's anything, it's craving for attention, even if he sucks at asking for it. Hongjoong was over trying to get over his crush on the eldest months ago. It was a long time coming, he thinks, with how Seonghwa is, well, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong is just a touch and attention starved idiot. So when he had been told he'd be roommates with Seonghwa, after going through all stages of grief in a rather quick and unpleasant way, it's only natural that he'd gotten his hopes up the tiniest bit when he realized they'd be spending every night together (well, not together  _ together,  _ but within the same small, squeaky clean room).

What he hadn't expected, though, was the cactus.

It had appeared on the desk (the only desk they have, because they apparently can't afford another) only a couple of days after they'd moved in, a green, pointy, obtrusive presence smack in the middle of Hongjoong's field of vision. 

"What's that?" he'd asked, glaring at the tiny, brightly colored pot.

Seonghwa looked up from where he was folding his clothes and followed the direction of his eyes. "Oh! A cactus. I saw it the other day and thought it would look cute on the desk."

How someone could look at that monstrosity and call it  _ cute _ was beyond Hongjoong. He glared some more at the cactus, almost expecting it to grow sentience and glare back. The cactus didn't, it just sat there, looking like a cactus.

"Why is it in the middle of the desk?"

"Did you want me to put it in your bed?" Seonghwa asked, not even bothering to look at him.

Hongjoong would prefer other occupants of this room to be in his bed, but he didn't think that comment was the smoothest way to reveal his feelings, even for him.

"It takes up too much space," he said instead, assuming an annoyingly whiney role. If there was one way to get a rise out of Seonghwa it was like that.

Seonghwa gave him an unimpressed look. "It's literally smaller than your fist, and that's saying a lot."

Hongjoong resisted the urge to throw said fist in a punch to his face, no matter how beautiful it was.

"I don't like it."

"You don't need to, just do your thing and it'll do its. You don't even need to care for it, I'll do it," Seonghwa said, sounding like he was speaking to a little child.

Hongjoong  _ humph _ ed, not agreeing, but also not knowing how to counter. "Whatever."

***

Now it's been months, and the cactus is still on the desk, looking as cactusy as ever, only five times bigger.

"Seonghwa, this shit is growing," Hongjoong says one night, sitting on his bed with his laptop on his lap. The song he's currently working on is stuck, and he's been staring into nothingness for five minutes now before he realized that the cactus is, effectively, a lot bigger than it was.

"What?" Seonghwa's head pops up from the top bunk, his hair sticking in all directions due to gravity. It's a funny sight, and Hongjoong would have laughed and maybe tried to get a picture of it if it weren't for his sour mood.

"The cactus," he bites, pointing at the offending green (and now purple, he realizes with a jolt, a flower is starting to bloom on top of it) aberration. "It's growing."

Seonghwa makes a face, rolling his eyes, which looks absolutely surrealist while he's hanging upside down. "It's what plants do: they grow."

"Yeah, well, it's taking up space," Hongjoong points out. 

"You can still work perfectly fine, don't be a baby," Seonghwa tells him, and deems their conversation to be over, because he retreats to his bed again, not even dignifying Hongjoong with a good night. Hongjoong sometimes wonders why he likes him when he's clearly an asshole.

Hongjoong isn't even sure why it bothers him so much, but the sight of the cactus, looking all self-righteous and smug on the desk, as if saying  _ I get his attention and you don't _ makes his blood boil in his veins. Seeing Seonghwa care for the cactus and spend time looking at it adoringly puts him in an irrational and feral mood that he's not sure is justified or justifiable.

It's ridiculous, and Hongjoong is ashamed to even think about it, but it is clear that he is jealous of the green bastard.

***

The final straw comes on the day that Hongjoong distractedly pulls back his chair to sit at the desk and get down to work and nearly sits on the damn prickly thing.

"That's it," he mutters to himself furiously, "I'm getting rid of this."

Grabbing the obnoxiously colored pot, he stomps his way out of the room, not running into anyone by some miracle, and plants the Offender on the living room coffee table. That should do it.

Triumphally, he walks back to the room, intent on getting as much work done as he can before Seonghwa comes back from wherever he said he was going and starts pestering him about the dirty clothes at the foot of his bed.

He manages to get about twenty minutes of uninterrupted arranging when the door swings open, making him jump and smash his hands on the keyboard of his laptop, creating a cacophony of sounds.

"What the-" he spins around, about to demand explanations, and is met with a furious looking Seonghwa holding the Offender to his chest like it's his own child. Hongjoong falters. "O-oh, hey."

"Care to explain why this was in the living room?" Seonghwa asks, fuming, and Hongjoong shrinks.

"W-what made you think it was me?" he tries, weakly.

Seonghwa's eyeroll is catastrophic. Hongjoong is surprised there aren't first responders at the door. "Please."

"Okay, but it was on my chair!" Hongjoong cries. Seonghwa doesn't get to be mad about this when Hongjoong is the one who nearly ended with a prickly ass. 

"I left it there for a second while I cleaned the desk," Seonghwa shoots back. Hongjoong huffs incredulously at him. 

"For an  _ hour _ ?" 

"I ran out of cleaner and went down to the convenience store," Seonghwa explains, turning his nose up and pouting through it. Hongjoong gets momentarily distracted by how  _ cute _ that pout is, but the sight of the pointy monstrosity brings him back to the matter at hand.

"And left the cactus on the chair so that someone would sit on it," he accuses. Seonghwa glares and he glares back. This is how most their arguments end; with them glaring at each other, both too stubborn to accept defeat. But Hongjoong isn't backing down now, not when he's clearly right.

"Whatever," Seonghwa finally breaks. He steps into the room and places the cactus back on the desk, as far out of Hongjoong's reach as he can. Hongjoong follows his movements with a scowl, hoping his dislike for the green thing is properly showcased. "Don't touch it," Seonghwa warns him.

He leaves the room without another word, closing the door behind him quietly. Hongjoong almost wishes he were more violent about it. It's difficult to justify staying mad at someone when they are so gentle, even if Hongjoong's right. 

"I hope you're happy," he groans at the cactus, who, as always, says nothing. "I bet you think you're his favorite, well you're not."

The cactus remains silent and Hongjoong pours all his frustrations into his arranging.

* * *

2.

Two months after the chair incident, Hongjoong can't take it anymore.

It's almost as if, since that day, Seonghwa has redoubled his efforts to care for the cactus in the most showy and annoying way possible, always making sure Hongjoong is in the room when he starts grooming the damn thing or cooing about how cute it is.

Hongjoong won't lie, it's driving him insane.

That could be him, he reasons. That could be him if only he were a little, green, prickly devil's spawn. Hell, that's basically him, with how jealous he is. All he needs is to start growing prickles. He's even come to terms with the fact that he's jealous of a cactus; so many things in his life just  _ happen  _ to him, this isn't even the weirdest of them all.

Currently, he's lying in his bed, staring into darkness as he waits for divine inspiration to strike. The first comeback has been a success, but the company is already pushing them for more. A world tour is in their near future, as well as a new comeback a few months down the road. Hongjoong is determined to make at least one of his songs make it to the album this time. But to do that, he needs to create a song that the company can't say no to.

Suddenly, something pops in his head, the faintest idea of a lyric. It's barely a thought, but Hongjoong scrambles to his feet, hurrying to the desk and searching for something to write on. His hand makes contact with something pointy, and he lets out a yelp, instinctively swatting at it. 

He turns on the desktop lamp, quickly scribbling the lyrics on a paint-stained piece of paper, and stands back up, scanning them. When he sets it down, a flash of green at the corner of his eye catches his attention.

The cactus lays at the very edge of the desk, probably propelled there by his slap earlier. Its bright pot sits precariously on the verge of falling, all it would take is a little nudge.

Hongjoong eyes the cactus, feeling something dark, feline and feral taking over, and before he knows it, he's reaching out and pushing the Offender off the desk, watching as it falls with a sweet satisfaction filling his chest.

Realization dawns on him with the unmistakable sound of clay hitting the floor and shattering.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. "Shit shit shit shit shit."

He hurries to the door, feeling blindly for the light switch on the wall. When he finds it and light floods the room, he wishes he hadn't. Beside the desk, on a heap of soil and broken clay, lays the cactus, crookedly staring up at Hongjoong in accusation.

"I'm dead," Hongjoong realizes. A small part of him wants to bask in the fact that he finally defeated the competition, but it's quickly silenced by the bigger, more urgent part of him that's already praying to every deity he can think of.

He leans against the door, staring at the disaster he just created, feeling his entire body go cold. He's so fucked. So impossibly, irredeemably fucked. Seonghwa is going to murder him in cold blood the moment he sees his precious cactus on the floor. Hongjoong can already see the headlines.

He can hear voices in the corridor, slowly getting closer, and with them, his demise. The door jostles behind him and he lets out a little whimper, not ready to die just yet.

"Why is this closed… Hongjoong-ah!" Seonghwa calls, unable to know just what's awaiting for him inside the room. Another push, harder this time. "I swear, if he has his headphones on again…  _ Hongjoong _ !"

"I'm here!" Hongjoong's idiotic mouth betrays him. He just knows he can't keep holding the door closed forever, he's not that strong.

"Yah, let me in!" 

Hongjoong would rather throw himself out the window at the moment. "Can't do that," he says, trying to sound firmer than he feels.

There's a beat of silence, and the next time Seonghwa speaks, it's in a suspicious tone. "What have you done this time?"

And wow, okay, who says Seonghwa and he aren't close when he can tell Hongjoong has fucked up through a closed door.

"You don't wanna know," he says weakly. "You'll kill me."

Hongjoong can see Seonghwa's eyeroll. "I'll kill you if you don't let me in, so choose."

Hongjoong blanches, feeling his soul abandon his body as he steps away from the door, slowly turning the knob and pulling it open to reveal an unamused looking Seonghwa. Behind him, San's head peeks from his shoulder, curious eyes trying to see what's going on inside the room.

"So?" Seonghwa demands, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"Before you assume anything, it was an accident," Hongjoong hurries to explain himself. He can hear San let out a snort, but he's too preoccupied scanning Seonghwa's face for a reaction to chide him for it.

"What is it?" Seonghwa asks, a bit softer this time. Whatever Hongjoong's face is doing right now must be convincing enough to make his protective side come out. 

Letting his head fall, Hongjoong steps aside and motions Seonghwa inside. "See it for yourself."

Hongjoong can't bring himself to look up and see his reaction, so he just hears the gasp and the hurried steps towards the crime scene. "What happened?!"

"It was dark, and I wanted to write some lyrics down, and accidentally pushed it down," Hongjoong says, feeling guilty, but still not guilty enough to tell the whole truth. He expects Seonghwa to immediately call him out, or to accuse him (rightfully) of doing it on purpose.

"Hongjoong, you could have hurt yourself," he says instead, and Hongjoong's head snaps up in his direction.

"What?"

Seonghwa is kneeling beside the mess, looking up with soft eyes at Hongjoong, who wants to crawl out of his own skin because he's a little gremlin who doesn't deserve them.

"With the prickles," Seonghwa explains. "Are your hands okay?"

"I- uh, yeah," Hongjoong tries not to look guilty as he pretends to examine his hands. "I only hit the pot."

Seonghwa nods, seemingly appeased by that answer, and turns to the Offender again, picking some of the biggest clay bits and throwing them on the bin. Something feels off. Seonghwa is way too calm.

"Aren't you mad at me?" Hongjoong ventures, watching as Seonghwa continues to pick up pieces of clay.

"What for?" he asks back, lifting his head. Then he looks behind Hongjoong and he calls. "Sannie, can you get me a broom, please?"

San, who Hongjoong hadn't even realized was still there, says a little  _ yep  _ and runs down the corridor.

"I killed your cactus," Hongjoong tells him, as if it's not obvious. "Aren't you mad at me for that?"

Seonghwa gives him an amused look. "You didn't kill it, though. It will just need another pot, but it'll be fine. And you didn't get hurt either, so it's all good. It was just an accident."

Hongjoong stands there, dumbfounded, staring at Seonghwa with wide eyes but not really seeing him. 

Does he mean that all the efforts, all panic he just went through, all the rage, was for nothing? That he just had several thousand mini heart attacks, and for what? The damn prickly bastard is still alive.

The same dark, consuming feeling (that Hongjoong now recognizes as cactucidal tendencies) rises in his chest, and he finds himself faking a smile, not even in this plane of existence anymore.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was just an  _ accident _ ."

* * *

3.

The following weeks are filled with hectic rehearsals, tour preparations and late studio nights. Hongjoong almost doesn't have time to draft a plan to commit cactucide.

Almost.

He has an idea, it's just not a quick one. The idea simply consists of overwatering the cactus, adding a little more water every day. It's honestly so simple, he's surprised he hasn't thought of it before, but it's a slow process, and it's still not showing results.

It's a cold February morning when Hongjoong is sitting at the desk, staring blankly at a blank paper that stares back. Lyrics aren't coming to him and he's this close to start ripping his own hair out. The fact that he's running on less than three hours of sleep and has lost count of the amount of cups of coffee he's had maybe is somehow related to his inability to focus, but he prefers to think it's actually due to the Offender sitting there and staring smugly at him.

Seonghwa has had less time to take care of it these days, but that doesn't stop the prickly bastard to stand tall and proud in the middle of the desk, a constant reminder of what Hongjoong is missing out on. He must give some credit to himself, though. His previous stunt made something in Seonghwa's demeanor change, and now he's all over Hongjoong all the time, asking if he's taking good enough care of himself and forcing him to take breaks and eat. Hongjoong, ever one craving attention but who panics the moment he gets it, doesn't know how to react to this sudden change in their dynamic.

Is he thrilled by the sudden onslaught of attention and subtle affections? Absolutely. Does he have any idea how to deal with it? Not at all.

But it's good, he tells himself. He doesn't need Seonghwa to return his feelings. He's happy with where they are at the moment. What he isn't happy with is the plant currently taking up space that could be used for another mixing laptop.

"What are you looking at?" he asks the cactus. The cactus doesn't say anything. "Bet you think you're hot shit, huh? Getting all his attention without even trying."

The cactus just sits there, looking as smug as ever.

"You could at least say something," he continues prodding, feeling rage start to bubble up in his chest the more he stares at the green aberration. His left eye starts to twitch, and suddenly he's on his feet, grabbing the new, equally horrendous pot and making his way to the window. 

"You know what?" he snarls at the cactus. "I'm done with you, good fucking riddance."

He pulls the window open, the cold air hitting his face and making him wince, but he doesn't relent. He throws his arm back, preparing to make a swing, when there's a sudden knock at the door.

"Hyung?" it's Yunho's voice. "Are you awake? We're going to get some boba, do you wanna come with us?"

Hongjoong stands, petrified, one arm still raised to chuck the cactus out the window, and realizes what exactly he's doing. Slowly, as if in a trance, he lowers his hand, staring at the cactus like it's the first time he sees it.

"Hyung?" Yunho calls again.

"Yes," he says, but he isn't really saying it. He's still staring at his hand in horror. "I'll be out in two minutes."

"Great!"

Hongjoong puts the cactus down on the desk, taking three careful steps back and sitting on the bed. A cold breeze comes in through the open window, and he shivers. He was about to throw the cactus out the window. No hesitation, no doubt. He would have swung it out the window had Yunho not had such perfect timing.

This cactus is slowly making him lose his sanity.

He needs to sleep more. This is clearly a symptom of not getting enough sleep. And maybe repressed feelings, but he's not ready to go there yet. He's not sure he'll even be able to look Seonghwa in the eye anymore. If he doesn't do something about this whole crushing on him thing, he'll go mad.

But first, he needs to get boba with the members. Deep breaths, he tells himself. You'll get through this.

* * *

4.

To put it simply: Hongjoong is an idiot.

That fact in itself doesn't surprise anyone, he's proved it thoroughly throughout the years, after all. No, what's surprising to him is the fact that he's apparently a  _ bigger _ idiot than he'd ever thought he was. Because who in their right mind punches a cactus?

It's not his proudest moment, he'll admit. He's done idiotic things in impulsive bouts of rage before, but this one might just take the cake. And the worst part of it all is that he can't even tell anyone why he did it, least of all Seonghwa, who is fussing over his prickle covered knuckles and looks like he is close to hyperventilating.

"I told you it's fine," Hongjoong repeats, trying not to wince as Seonghwa pulls another prickle from his finger with a pair of tweezers. "It doesn't hurt that badly."

"I just don't understand how you managed to get them  _ all over your hand, _ " Seonghwa says, sounding distressed. Whether it's on Hongjoong's behalf or the cactus' remains a mystery.

"I told you, I wasn't looking and I knocked against it," Hongjoong explains through his bruised pride.

"You should be more careful," Seonghwa chides him, as he keeps pulling prickles out. He has to hold Hongjoong's hand in between his gently to do so, and Hongjoong has never been one to like holding hands, but he won't deny he's enjoying the soft trace of Seonghwa's thumb against the back of his hand. "One day you'll get hurt for real."

And he sounds so worried when he says it, so genuinely concerned for Hongjoong's wellbeing that something in Hongjoong breaks a little. He looks down, feeling very small.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. He feels shitty for making Seonghwa worry.

Seonghwa looks up at him gently, his hair falling softly on his eyes that Hongjoong can't quite read when he smiles at him. "I'm not mad at you, I just worry. When was the last time you got a full night's sleep? You become clumsy when you're tired."

"Oh," is all Hongjoong can say. He hadn't realized Seonghwa paid that much attention to him. He probably does it out of habit, after all he's always the one taking care of the members, but Hongjoong can't help the tiny flicker of hope that lights up in his chest. "I… I'll be more careful," he promises, staring dumbly as Seonghwa gives him a beautiful smile that's filled with gratitude.

"Good," he says, pulling the last prickle from Hongjoong's fingers. He gives Hongjoong's hand a squeeze. "How's it feel?"

"It stings like a bitch," Hongjoong complains. It makes Seonghwa laugh, a light chuckle.

"I'll see if we have anything for the irritation," he says. He brings Hongjoong's hand up, and Hongjoong thinks it's to see if he missed any prickles, but instead, he plants a soft kiss to his knuckles before letting go and standing up. "Wait here."

And he's gone before Hongjoong has time to process what just happened. 

"What the fuck."

* * *

5.

Things get… interesting after that. Seonghwa becomes more clingy. Even during the tour, when they are rooming with different members, he will find excuses to spend alone time with Hongjoong, or will always sit beside him, touching him gently and leaving Hongjoong with even more questions than he started with. Nothing ever happens, though. Hongjoong is left swimming in mixed signals, getting more and more confused.

The first night back home after the tour Hongjoong lies in his bed, an arm thrown over his eyes as he listens to Seonghwa move around the room. He'll never admit it out loud but he's missed this. Seonghwa is nothing if not methodical, and the soft sounds of his getting ready for bed routine are often enough to lull Hongjoong to sleep. There's a low cooing noise, and Hongjoong lifts his head to find Seonghwa leaning on the desk, looking adoringly at the cactus. That dark and nasty feeling takes hold of his chest again, and it's almost shocking, after so long of not having felt it. 

Someone has taken care of the cactus while they were out, which means the prickly bastard is back to its full glory, purple flowers looking smugly at Hongjoong, laughing at him for not succeeding in killing it. 

Hongjoong makes a decision then: he's killing this cactus even if it's the last thing he does. The overwatering starts first thing tomorrow, this time for real.

"What are you scheming?" Seonghwa's voice brings him out of his thoughts. He's leaning on his elbows on the desk, looking at Hongjoong with squinted eyes.

Hongjoong blinks up at him, trying to school his factions into his best innocent face. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"You had your thinking face on," Seonghwa says, pushing himself up. He walks the short distance between them and sits at the foot of Hongjoong's bed. Hongjoong draws his feet up to give him space, sitting up against his pillows. 

"I don't have a thinking face," Hongjoong says, laughing at the idea.

Seonghwa makes a little face. “You do, though! Like when you are composing or think of lyrics. You get this focused look,” he explains, gesturing to his face as he talks. Hongjoong looks at him for a moment, taken aback. Seonghwa notices his pause and winces. “What?”

“Nothing,” Hongjoong tells him. “I just never noticed.”

He had also never noticed that Seonghwa pays so much attention to the things he does. 

Seonghwa brings his legs to his chest with a hum, resting his cheek on his knees. He looks soft and tired, his hair frizzy from the shower, and his eyes heavy with sleep. Hongjoong lets himself look at him for a moment, basking in this brief moment of just coexisting without having to worry about anything else. Seonghwa blinks back at him slowly, and he looks like he’s battling sleep. Hongjoong nudges his thigh gently with his foot.

“Go to sleep,” he says softly. Seonghwa whines, unwrapping and sprawling himself on Hongjoong’s bed. 

“But I gotta climb there and I’m tired…” he mutters against the sheets, his voice muffled.

Hongjoong pretends to be annoyed. "You're such a baby, just do it."

"But I'm tired…" Seonghwa whines, making himself comfortable on the bed. He grabs the duvet and wraps himself in it, leaving Hongjoong's legs cold. "I think I'll sleep here tonight."

Hongjoong chokes on air. "W-what?"

Seonghwa nuzzles his face against the pillows, his eyes closed and lips stretched in a satisfied smile. He reminds Hongjoong of a cat. "Yeah, I'm comfy. Good night, Hongjoong-ah."

And just like that, he turns to the wall, leaving Hongjoong gaping at his back. This is new. This is weird. Seonghwa has never asked to share a bed with him before. He's seen him sleeping with the clingier members sometimes, buried under San or with Wooyoung draped over him, but he's always kept his distance with Hongjoong.

It makes his heart pick up in his chest, a million possibilities racing through his head as he stares at the back of Seonghwa's fluffy hair. He thinks of all the attempts at approaching him Seonghwa has made in the past months, and can't help but feel hopeful for the first time. What if he's not alone in this? What if, by some unfathomable trick of destiny, Seonghwa reciprocates his feelings? His head spins.

"Are you gonna lie down or will you stay up all night?" Seonghwa asks, slamming him back into reality. His voice is slurry with sleep, and Hongjoong knows it won't be long until he's out.

"Right," he says, acting on autopilot. He stumbles out of bed, hurries to close the light, and returns, feeling blindly for the duvet only to remember Seonghwa stole it all. "Yah, if you're gonna sleep here at least don't hoard all the blankets."

Seonghwa grumbles something unintelligible, but the next moment, Hongjoong can hear him shift, and he finds the edge of the duvet with his fingers. He slips into bed, feeling immensely awkward. Does he risk trying to cuddle up closer to Seonghwa? Does he stay right where he is? Is this strictly platonic bed sharing or are there implications to this? Hongjoong can see clearly that he's not going to sleep tonight. 

"Oh my God, stop thinking so loud," Seonghwa groans, and he shifts again, throwing an arm over Hongjoong's chest and planting his face on his shoulder. "Go to sleep," he orders.

"O-okay," Hongjoong stammers, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. He's surprised Seonghwa can't hear it. 

It takes him an admittedly long time to relax, but he does eventually, and for the first time ever, he closes his eyes and sleeps with Seonghwa by his side. It's a peaceful, calm sleep, filled with dreams of soft hair and warm eyes and blinding smiles. And maybe a cactus or two.

***

The plan works, surprisingly. 

The following days, Seonghwa starts complaining about the cactus looking 'sad'. Whatever that means. Then, he mentions how its flowers are starting to die, despite the fact that he's doing all he can to take care of them. Finally, he informs Hongjoong with a pout, the cactus is starting to rot, and he can't understand, for the life of him, what he's doing wrong.

It's sad, seeing him so sad, and Hongjoong almost feels bad about being the cause of it, key word being 'almost'. If it's what he has to do to get Seonghwa's undivided attention, he'll do it. He's a man on a mission.

Two and a half weeks later, just one week before they start promoting for the new comeback, the cactus dies. It's a clear and warm day, perfectly matching Hongjoong's mood as he watches Seonghwa take the Offender's pot and sadly empty it on the trash.

"I literally don't understand what went wrong," he says, pouting where he's sitting on the edge of Hongjoong's bed. 

Hongjoong pats his shoulder, faking concern. "Well, you know how these things are, one can never be sure."

"Yeah," Seonghwa mutters, shoulders slumping. Then he straightens up and seems to make a decision. "I'm going for a walk," he says, standing up.

Hongjoong watches him as he retrieves his wallet and keys. "Don't think too much about it!" he calls after him when he leaves. He only gets a hum in response.

Once he's out the room, Hongjoong does a little victory wiggle, settling himself comfortably in bed to take a celebratory nap. He's out for a while, a dreamless, blissful sleep that's broken by the sound of the door opening quickly.

"Hongjoongie, look what I found!" Seonghwa practically leaps at him, shoving something under Hongjoong's nose. The something is a small plant with chubby leafs that are a pale green with pink tips, looking all round and pretty on an obnoxious purple pot. "Isn't it the cutest thing you've seen?"

Hongjoong feels his eye twitch. "Yeah. The  _ cutest _ ."

Seonghwa beams, standing up to place the pot on the desk. "I'm glad you like it. I'm not killing this one."

And that's the moment Hongjoong breaks.

"You didn't kill the other one," he says lowly, sitting up in bed. Seonghwa directs a confused glance at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"You didn't kill the other one," he repeats. "I killed it because it was getting your attention."

" _ What _ ?" Seonghwa asks, looking at him like he's speaking nonsense.

Hongjoong groans, knocking his head back against the wall. So this is it, huh? He hadn't expected things to go like this, but then again, when does anything ever go his way?

"What I mean is that I like you, and that I was jealous of a stupid cactus, and I overwatered it because you paid more attention to it than to me, and I'm sorry, and you can laugh now because I'm ridiculous," he says in one breath, not meeting Seonghwa's eyes.

There's a bit of silence, and Hongjoong thinks he's finally fucked up definitely, but then…

"I know."

It's Hongjoong's turn to look at Seonghwa incredulously. " _ What _ ?!"

Seonghwa is doing a sort of complicated thing with his face, smiling but not quite. "I know you like me," he clarifies. "I've known it for a while. But did you really need go kill a cactus to show me?"

Hongjoong's mouth snaps open. "You  _ knew _ ?"

He's been going crazy all these months trying to figure out if he was too obvious about it, and Seonghwa's known all this time?

Seonghwa nods, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His tongue comes out to wet his lips. "I wanted to tell you, but I never found the moment."

"Well, you have it now," Hongjoong breathes. "How do you feel about it?"

Seonghwa's cheeks grow red. "Oh, this is awkward."

"Why?"

Seonghwa looks at him, and then away, and then back at him. "Because you killed my cactus, but I still like you."

"I said I was so- Wait, you like me?!" Hongjoong cuts himself mid sentence. Seonghwa smiles awkwardly, and shrugs. " _ And you didn't say anything?! _ "

"Why would  _ I _ say anything?!" Seonghwa counters, looking offended all of a sudden.

Hongjoong stares at him in disbelief. "Because  _ you _ knew I liked you!"

"Yeah, but I didn't know how to tell you!"

"Saying: 'hey Hongjoong, I like you, you like me, let's do something about it' for example!"

"Like it's that easy!" Seonghwa throws his hands in the air, looking exasperated.

Hongjoong stands up suddenly, stomping the three steps separating them. "It  _ is _ that easy," he says, in a sudden bout of courage. "Hey, Seonghwa? I like you, you like me, let's do something about it."

And then he gets on his tiptoes and slams their mouths together.

Seonghwa makes a little surprised sound, and for a second, Hongjoong is afraid he'll push him away. But then his lips slide against Hongjoong's and one of his hands comes to tangle in the hair at his nape, and Hongjoong hums in approval, his hands resting on Seonghwa's chest.

The kiss is unhurried and sweet, just them learning each other's lips in slow, easy movements that take Hongjoong's breath away. Seonghwa's other arm wraps around his waist and he pulls him closer, their chests bumping, and Hongjoong can feel how fast Seonghwa's heart is beating. It's a nice counterpart to his own racing heart.

They part, after a while, because breathing is a thing that exists, and stare at each other, panting. Hongjoong cracks a grin, and Seonghwa rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss him again. Hongjoong hums happily into it.

"Seonghwa?" Hongjoong says, after a while, when they're lying in his bed and Seonghwa is distractedly kissing under his jaw. Seonghwa hums to signal he's heard him, the vibrations making Hongjoong's skin tingle. "Let's get another desk."

That sends Seonghwa on a fit of giggles against Hongjoong's neck. 

"Okay," he mutters, after he's calmed down.

And this is the story of how Hongjoong got a boyfriend, and managed to kill a plant in the process.

**Author's Note:**

> It's still Hongjoong's birthday so HAPPY BIRTHDAY URI LEADER god i love that midget.
> 
> As always find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/thewintersobber), bbyong!


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